


With Tidings of Comfort and Joy

by estelraca



Category: Kamen Rider Kuuga
Genre: M/M, Post-Series, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:23:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5441624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/pseuds/estelraca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About five years after the end of the Grongi War, Godai returns to Japan.  It isn't the first time he's done this, and it won't be the last, and his friends and his lover both fold him easily back into their lives, providing just the warmth and light that he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Tidings of Comfort and Joy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mara/gifts).



> Written for Mara for Yuletide. I hope you like it! Kuuga is one of my favorite series ever, and it was a pleasure to get to write for it again.

_With Tidings of Comfort and Joy_

The earthquake happens on a Tuesday.

Ichijou learns about it twelve hours later, which makes it late Wednesday for him. He has learned a great deal about time zones around the world in the last five years, since the Grongi war ended and Godai returned to the life of a wanderer.

Ichijou has learned a great deal about many things, since Godai left and returned and left again, a pattern that Ichijou is fairly certain will repeat now until either Godai dies or everyone he cares about in Japan dies. Ichijou has learned the geography of South America and mainland Asia and central Europe and Africa and the Middle East in far more detail than he ever would have thought he would need. He has learned how to browse international news on-line, because what is reported on in Japan tends to barely scrape the tip of the iceberg of what he wants to know. He has learned which sites offer passable translations, and which offer only gibberish; he has learned a smattering of phrases in other languages, at least enough to recognize words for major disasters and possible sightings of Yongo.

Kuuga, now, the name known far and wide, not just in Japan but elsewhere. It makes sense, of course. Something world-altering and city-destroying like Daguva, in a first-world country—the hero who destroyed him would of course become known far and wide.

It strikes him as strange, sometimes, that everyone knows about that fight on the mountain. Everyone knows that a good man stood against a monster. Though no one else was there, standing freezing in the snow, though no one else was so close and so far as he was, everyone knows about it.

Very few people know the whole story, though. Only the survivors from the Unidentified Lifeforms Task Force and Godai's personal friends know his name. Protecting Godai's identity and freedom had been one of the few things Ichijou could do for the man he couldn't help on that mountain, for the man who burned while he froze, and everyone had helped him without question.

They are good people, his survivors, his _friends_ , and Ichijou contacts them as soon as he reads about the earthquake. It was close to where Godai's last postcards were sent from, and Ichijou has learned many things since the end of the Grongi War.

The note comes from Godai three weeks later. It is short and succinct, everything that Ichijou had expected it to be. The front of the postcard shows a beautiful sunset over the sea. Or perhaps it is a sunrise? Ichijou can't read the script that the postcard description is in.

He can read Godai's handwriting, though. _Coming home_ , it starts, and then gives the flight number and arrival time. _Could you have my bike waiting for me? See you soon._

_Home_. Ichijou's fingers trace over the word, and he can feel a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. When did Godai start calling their shared apartment home? When did Godai really start _sharing_ his apartment, instead of just staying over frequently when they were both in Tokyo? They formalized it in words three years ago, Ichijou supposes, though the process started before then, an organic merging of their lives that Ichijou had been forced to label, the discomfort of probably-but-not-definitely being in a long-term relationship playing uncomfortably on his nerves.

Godai still scrawls the Kuuga symbol after his name. Ichijou isn't entirely certain if it's just fore of habit, or if it's a refusal to be frightened, or if it's a way to remind himself what he is. _Kuuga_ , Yongo, the hero instead of the monster, though the man who walked off the mountain is very different from the man who walked onto it.

It doesn't even bother Ichijou anymore. He is simply glad to get messages from Godai, just as all of Godai's other friends do, reminders when Godai is absent that he isn't missing, he's exploring. He isn't hiding, he's reaching out. He isn't bleeding alone, he's doing the best thing he possibly can to keep himself sane and happy.

Right now Godai Yuusuke is coming home, though.

And that means it's time for Ichijou to put his plans in action.

XXX

Godai stretches as he finally emerges from customs, working the long flight's worth of kinks out of his muscles. He may heal with remarkable speed, but some things even Kuuga can't counteract, like the tension inherent in squeezing his frame into an economy-class seat for eight hours.

Not that it had been an unpleasant flight. The woman sitting next to him was from Germany, originally, and they had spent several hours exchanging stories and information in a hodge-podge of languages, trying to figure out what events caused them to end up on the same plane. Godai had shown her some sleight-of-hand tricks; she has demonstrated to him her caricature skills, and attempted to impart a little bit of that knowledge to him. All in all, it had been a pleasant trip. Now all he has to do is find his bike and—

"Godai Yuusuke!"

For a moment Godai freezes, hope springing up hot inside him. He tamps it down immediately, though, because he recognizes the voice, and it isn't Ichijou's.

It _wouldn't_ be Ichijou's, of course. It's just after seven in the morning, and Ichijou is undoubtedly at work, trying to cram as much crime-solving and victim-saving into the day as he can so that there is a possibility Godai will actually be able to see him this evening. Given the size of the city and Ichijou's dedication to his job, there's a fifty-fifty chance that it will be approaching midnight when Godai finally gets his hands on the man.

And he's all right with that. Ichijou accepts his traveling; he accepts Ichijou's dedication to and love of his job, even when it means their paths don't intersect as often as they'd like. Being in the same country again at least means text messaging is an option for quick communication, a reminder that they are close and will be able to touch at some point in the near future.

(Ichijou had been so smug when they first began texting, saying that it would mean Godai finally has a reason to keep his phone on him. Godai had pointed out that Ichijou's cell phone already tries to kill him on a regular basis, and frequent texts will simply exacerbate that problem. It hadn't stopped either of them from taking full advantage of the technology, though, and it provides a nice background to Godai's time in Japan these days.)

The man jogging towards Godai is not Ichijou, then, but he is still a familiar and welcome face, and Godai finds himself grinning as he turns to face the older man. "Sugita! I wasn't expecting to see you here, Detective."

"You're finally back in town, and you expect us to deliver your bike to the airport and pay exorbitant parking fees instead of just picking you up?" Sugita's hand claps against his shoulder, the man returning his grin with equal intensity. "Ichijou would have been here, but he's—"

"Working an important case." Godai finishes the sentence along with Sugita. "Of course he is. He wouldn't be our Ichijou if he wasn't. There wasn't any need for you to rearrange your schedule for me, though. I would have been fine with just my bike."

Godai resists the urge to pull Sugita into an embrace. He is in Japan again, he reminds himself, where any physical contact is intimate—Sugita's hand on his shoulder is a deep declaration of friendship. (But he wants to touch people, he wants to hold and be held, he wants to inhale the scents of people he loves when they are at _peace_ , when there is not death-fear-loss-disease—)

Sugita's grin falters, his eyes studying Godai's intently, his hand first flinching back from Godai's shoulder and then tightening its hold in a gesture of clear dedicated loyalty. "Godai, is it starting to feel a little hot in here to you?"

Closing his eyes, Godai draws a deep breath and then exhales slowly. No heat. No worry. No fear. Just a friend, come to welcome him home, and it is a poor declaration of friendship to frighten him in response.

When he opens his eyes again, the memories—both years and days old—are once more buried away, and his smile is genuine if sheepish. "Sorry. I'm fine. And I appreciate it, you giving me a lift."

"No problem." Sugita's hand falls back to his side, and then both hands are shoved in the man's pockets as he begins heading to the door. "Ichijou asked if anyone was available, and my shift doesn't start until after noon for the next two weeks, so I volunteered. Besides, it gives me a chance to take you out to breakfast—assuming you're hungry?"

"I have no idea what meal it's supposed to be anymore, but I'm always hungry." It is easy to smile, ambling along at Sugita's side, and Godai is glad that the man came to meet him.

"Great!" Sugita nods as though a decisive course has been plotted. "Then we'll go pick up my wife and my kids—"

Godai's step falters, just the briefest hesitation.

Sugita notices, his smile fading and his eyes hooding with concern again. "Unless you'd prefer to head straight home? Whatever's going to be best for you."

"I'd like going out for a meal. Assuming you wouldn't mind." It is a pleasant spring day outside, the temperature hovering ten degrees or so above freezing. "Assuming you're not worried about how hot it was getting?"

Understanding dawns in Sugita's eyes, and his hand snakes out of his pocket, slaps Godai on the shoulder once more before retreating back to its usual resting place. "My kids have wanted to meet the guy who saved their dad's life for a while. It's about time I obliged them. If it's not what _you_ want, say the word and I'll take you anywhere the car can go, but I'd be happy to introduce you to my family."

Sugita trusts him.

Sugita _knows_ him, knows all that he is capable of, all that he has done and not done, and Sugita trusts him.

Studying his shoes, smiling again, Godai gives a short nod. "I'd like to meet your family. A lot."

The rest of the walk to the car is silent, the ride to the restaurant filled with small talk about Sakurai and Sasayama and the other police survivors of the Grongi War.

It is almost the best welcome that Godai could imagine, and he sinks into it, desperately willing the kindness and faith and dedication of these people he fought with to salve over wounds old and new.

XXX

When breakfast is over Sugita drops Godai off at Pore-Pore.

The cafe has changed little in the months that Godai has been gone. It usually doesn't, though when it does, when Kazari goes through a major renovation, it always surprises Godai.

His bike is in front of the store, where Ichijou arranged for him to pick it up. _Far cheaper parking,_ Sugita had said with a grin, before getting out of the car and examining the motorcycle alongside Godai.

The bike is in fantastic shape, and Godai will be driving it home shortly. First, though, he has to say hello to a very old friend.

"Godai Yuusuke!" Kazari calls out the name with all the volume and enthusiasm of a carnival barker, and Godai wonders if _everyone_ used to call him by his full name and he just never noticed, or if all of their friends have picked up the habit from Ichijou. Kazari is wearing an apron with Kuuga's symbol emblazoned on it in a deep red thread, though he whips it off and turns to face Godai as the tinkling bell over the door gives away his entrance. "It's good to see you, boy."

"Oyassan." Godai happily envelopes the older man in a hug as Kazari emerges from behind the counter. "It's good to see you, too."

Kazari spends a few seconds patting at Godai's arms and chest, testing the fabric of his clothes, before giving a resigned sigh. "I suppose you're doing all right for yourself. Managing to keep yourself fed, at least. Though a good bowl of soup wouldn't go amiss, no?"

"I just got done with breakfast." Godai jerks a thumb towards the door. "I was just stopping to pick up my bike."

"Right, that detective of yours had it dropped off." Kazari smacks his fist into his palm. "I said it was no trouble the bike staying as long as you wanted. You know that you're always welcome here."

"I do." Godai smiles, looking around the room. A fresh coat of paint has been applied to applicable walls sometime in the last six months; the floor has been sanded and sealed, more recently, the chemical scent sharp in his nostrils. "I appreciate it. And maybe if you need me any help over the next few days...?"

"Depends on what time of day." Kazari bustles back behind the counter, picking up the apron. "Though if you wanted to play cook while I get tables set for the day..."

Godai is good at cooking for large numbers of people. Kazari taught him, ages and ages ago, and he has refined the skill over the years. Especially over the last few years, because surviving and clearing the physical danger is only the start of disaster relief, and cooking is one of the skills that is almost always needed by the survivors. Not always—this time, he didn't do much so far as cooking goes. This time he cleared rubble, exposed bodies, used his heightened senses to find survivors, and when enough time had passed someone would press a bowl into his hands and he would eat. It didn't matter what the food was—he was usually hungry enough that he would have eaten dirt, if he thought Kuuga could turn it into nutrition, though the food crisis was better this time than others. He—

A scrapbook is plopped down on the counter, and Godai jerks around, barely refraining from brandishing the spoon like a weapon and thus flinging broth across the restaurant.

"It's not a good shot." Kazari sniffs as he taps the page, and Godai leans closer, squinting until he can make out the image in the grainy, computer-printed picture. "But it will have to do."

Him. Kuuga. Yongo. Holding a piece of broken masonry, and that had been one of the good days, the day he found those two children and the rescue workers with him dragged them out whole.

The scrapbook that it's in isn't the one from the Grongi War. Godai will never forget that scrapbook, or the pictures contained therein, and this one is not the same, the cover a swirling mixture of midnight and sky blue. It is half-full, though, and Godai doesn't need to flip through all the rest of the pages to know that they will also be images of Kuuga.

"Ichijou helps me find them. Or those other detectives, Sugita, Sakurai, Sasayama." The book is snapped closed, filed back on the shelf that it came from.

Godai's hand rises, presses against the Kuuga symbol embroidered so painstakingly on the apron.

He is saved from answering, from trying to find a reasonable way to respond, to summarize the joy and pain and gratitude all rattling around in his chest, by the tinkling of the door opening again.

"Godai!" Nana is practically glowing with joy as she pushes her way into the cafe. "You're home! It's true!"

"I'm back." Godai returns her smile, handing the spoon back to Kazari so that he can go greet the young lady.

She hugs him, the movement slightly awkward, and then takes a step back. "You look fantastic."

"Thanks." Godai gives the lightest possible fist-bump to the girl's shoulder. "You've grown into a beautiful young lady yourself."

Nana rolls her eyes. "Yeah, like _you'd_ know about women's beauty."

"Nana!" Kazari flaps his hands at the young woman, as though that can somehow retract the statement.

Godai just smiles. "Because Ichijou and I are together?"

"Uh huh." Nana grins, skipping past him into the bar. "Don't worry; I've been working with a lot of gay guys in the theatre I'm performing at right now. Speaking of which!" Reaching into her purse, Nana pulls out four tickets. "For two nights from now, if you'd like. One for you, one for Ichijou, and two for anyone else you want to bring—Minori or Sakurako or Jean and Enokida or Tsubaki."

"I hate to disappoint you, but I am that fabled creature that finds both men and women desirable. Not that you need to find someone desirable to know they're beautiful—I'm sure you've also learned _that_ in theatre class." Godai takes the tickets, smiling to try to take any sting out of his words. Things are better now, in the country at large, for anyone with a non-conventional sexuality, and he has been amazingly lucky in how well all of his friends have adapted to and accepted him and Ichijou becoming a romantic partnership. Not that Godai would have been too devastated if anyone got upset. He has hardly been one to bend to societal expectations, ever, but he's glad for Ichijou's sake that love and friendship and the shared experience of surviving the Grongi War trump any issues their friends have with their sexualities. "And I would love to come. If Ichijou's available, I'm sure he'll be there too. It's great to hear you're performing."

"Things have been going really well." Nana settles down at the counter, and Godai listens, helping Kazari as Nana weaves tale after tale of working in theatre.

It's nice. It feels like it could be six years ago, working with Kazari, and yet the stories Nana tells make it clear that time has passed.

Godai stays until the lunch rush begins, and then excuses himself, starting up his bike and heading off, not quite sure what his destination is but knowing he'll recognize it when he finds it.

XXX

Minori is at the front of the class, and Godai almost leaves without entering, not wanting to interrupt her.

She has been promoted since he was last in the country, but the core of her job remains the same, and it's clear from the way she looks out over her class that she still loves it.

Clear that the children love her, too, respect her in a way that they don't always respect adults, and though not all of them are listening to her read, most of them are clearly invested in the story she is telling.

She spots him through the glass of the door, though, and gestures imperiously for him to enter. Rather than further interrupting the story by making her get up and chase him down the hall, which Godai has no doubt she would do, he instead slides into the back of the room and listens to the last half of a Momotaros retelling.

Minori doesn't get a chance to say much to him. She hugs him, briefly, to the giggling amazement of her students until she introduces him as her brother. Then she puts him to work, entertaining and assisting in equal measures, and that's how he ends up teaching four-year-olds for two hours until his sister's shift ends.

When the last child has been delivered into a harried but pleased-looking older woman's hands, Minori sighs and turns to him with a grin. "Welcome home, Yuusuke."

"Thanks." Hooking his hands in his pockets, Godai smiles. "Sorry to interrupt."

"You're never an interruption." Minori gives his shoulder a shove. "Well, actually, that's a bit of a lie. You're _sometimes_ an interruption, but never an unwelcome one. My kids always adore you, and I think you'll find some good ones among this lot."

"There's always good ones." Godai smiles, his eyes moving to the road of their own volition. "I'd even say they're _all_ good ones, or capable of being good ones."

"I think so, too. Or try really hard to." Minori's hand falls on his arm again, gentle, welcoming. "Want to stay while I do some paperwork, tell me about your trip?"

Nodding, Godai follows her back into the building. He wanders about her classroom, touching artwork, picking up puzzles and toys, though he makes sure to place everything back where he found it.

The stories that he tells her are the good ones. He tells her about the siblings who refused to let him leave until he taught them how to juggle. He tells her about the small black cat that followed him for two weeks, until Godai managed to befriend it to an older gentleman who needed a companion. He tells her about the widow he stayed with for five days, who knew everyone in her neighborhood and introduced him to the grocer he would work with for two weeks. He tells her about one of the doctors he met during the last three weeks, who reminded him somewhat of a female Tsubaki.

That is the only story of the last three weeks he tells her, though, and he can tell from the way her hand settles on his shoulder that she understands why.

"You're welcome in my classroom any time you're in town." It doesn't address her real concerns, but it is the nicest thing she could offer him, and Godai smiles his gratitude before grabbing his helmet and

following her out into the parking lot.

XXX

Godai is woken by his phone ringing.

For a few seconds he just blinks blurrily up at the ceiling, not recognizing it.

Then he realizes that the ring tone is Ichijou's, that the ceiling is their apartment ceiling, and he fumbles his phone out and to his ear.

"Detective!" Godai tries to find a clock that he can use to gauge the time. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but even Kuuga can't keep jet lag from catching up to them, and clearly he did. After a moment he realizes his phone has a clock, and checks to find that it's a quarter past nine.

"Godai Yuusuke."

It shouldn't be so simple for Ichijou to make him grin, but it is. Just that voice saying his name, his _full_ name, caressing it as though it were something strange and beautiful and precious, is enough to light up his whole body like nothing else can.

"I'm still going to be a little bit, Godai." Ichijou's tone is apologetic.

The same type of apologetic tone that Godai uses, when he starts talking about needing to head out on another trip, and Godai can feel a wistful smile tugging at his face. "It's all right. I understand. I'm just currently keeping the couch warm for you."

"Appreciated." Godai can hear the bemused smile in Ichijou's voice. "Do you want me to wake you when I get home, or let you sleep?"

"Wake me." Godai stretches his arms up above his head. "Assuming I'm asleep. I want to see you."

"I want to see you, too." The admission is made so quietly it is almost drowned out by the static of the phone call, but Kuuga makes it so they can hear it clearly. When Ichijou speaks again, it's in a louder, more normal voice. "Would you be interested in going to Disney Land with Enokida and Jean tomorrow?"

Godai blinks, not sure he's following this conversation properly. "Disney Land?"

"Talking mouse? International corporation? Theme park?" Ichijou's voice is gently teasing.

"I... sure."

"I'll let her know, then. Apparently Sayuru's school is taking a trip, and Jean and Enokida volunteered as chaperones, but they could use an extra set of hands."

Godai doesn't entirely believe that's the whole sequence of events involved in the offer being made—he's fairly certain if they were desperate for chaperones they would have gone looking more than twelve hours before the planned event—but it has been too long since he got to see Enokida, Jean, and Sayuru, so he is happy enough to play along. "I'll be there with bells on."

"I'm sure you will." From the half-amused note in Ichijou's voice, Godai suspects he is picturing it quite literally.

Which Godai could do, if he took half a mind to. Though moving from the couch into the bedroom and passing out there also seems very tempting...

"I'll see you in a few hours, Yuusuke." The words are soft, spoken with clear and obvious affection.

From Ichijou, over the phone, they are as intimate and impactful as shouting _I love you_ through a megaphone in a crowded shopping center. Godai finds his whole body curling around the phone, the life-line between him and his detective. "I'm looking forward to it."

Then Ichijou is gone, and Godai puts the phone back in his pocket before rising from the couch.

XXX

He makes dinner for both of them, cooking with what he finds in the freezer and refrigerator, hoping that Ichijou didn't have any major plans for any of the items. If he did, Godai will just replace them before he needs them. Given Ichijou's cooking habits, or rather lack thereof, Godai knows it's unlikely to be an issue.

Cooking keeps him awake, despite the jet lag pulling at his eyes and slowing his steps, but it doesn't keep him alert. When Ichijou comes home close to midnight, Godai sits at the table with him and hums idly to himself as the detective eats.

Ichijou isn't in a very talkative mood, mainly just imparting the information Godai will need to meet up with Enokida tomorrow, but the silence between them is a comfortable one. It is the silence of shared exhaustion and easy camaraderie, the silence of people who know each other so well that words often aren't necessary.

When Ichijou is done eating, he places his plate in the sink, takes Godai's hand, and leads them both into the bedroom. Godai makes a mental note to wash the plate before he heads out tomorrow—Ichijou likes order in his living space, and keeping up with cleaning and dishes so the detective doesn't have to is one of the small things that Godai likes to do when he's in town.

Ichijou isn't interested in sex tonight. Godai is grateful for it, because while he's fairly certain he could perform if he needed to—would most likely _try_ to, because those times when Ichijou initiates a physical tryst are rare and precious—right now he much prefers what they end up doing.

He can hear Ichijou's heartbeat. Ichijou is the one resting with his head against Godai's chest, so Godai is certain that Ichijou can hear his, too, but in the darkness and the silence Godai can hear the steady, calm beat of Ichijou's heart as clearly as he can hear Ichijou's breathing.

He can feel every point of contact between his body and Ichijou's, the firm muscle in the detective's arm's and legs, the callouses on Ichijou's hands.

He can _smell_ Ichijou, a delicious, unique mixture of gunpowder and something metallic and something unnameably _Ichijou_ that always persists no matter how long Ichijou spends in the bath. (If dogs or cats could talk, Godai thinks, they might be able to help him come up with names for the smells that people have, but since he has still not mastered the skill of talking with animals he is left to his own human devices and words, which frequently fail.)

"I'll probably work late again tomorrow." Ichijou's voice is quiet, with that slight hint of regretfulness to it again.

Godai runs a hand through Ichijou's hair, loving the feel of the strands between his hands. "That's all right."

"You'll have a great time with Enokida, I'm sure." Ichijou somehow manages to curl his body even closer to Godai's.

"I will." Godai continues to stroke Ichijou's hair, his eyes closed.

"And I _will_ see you tomorrow." Ichijou brushes a kiss to Godai's neck, the contact ethereal, almost too quick to notice. "Because there are some things we need to talk about."

Godai's heart rate picks up, though he tries to keep his voice light as he responds. "Good things? Bad things?"

"Good things only, I promise." Ichijou's hand reaches up, strokes along the side of Godai's face. "Nothing for you to worry about. I'd say it's a surprise present, but that's not quite right, and I don't want to get your hopes up if things go poorly. So we'll talk about it tomorrow."

"I suppose I can be patient enough to wait twenty-four hours." Godai buries his nose in Ichijou's hair, inhaling. "Though that _is_ one thousand four hundred and forty minutes..."

"Or eighty-six thousand four hundred minutes. I know. We've had this conversation before." Ichijou's finger falls across Godai's lips, and Godai kisses it. "Tomorrow, we'll talk more."

Godai takes the detective at his word, and they spend the rest of the night in silence, reveling in the simple pleasure of holding each other close.

XXX

Ichijou is up and out of the house before Godai, though Godai follows not long after, once he has cleaned up from breakfast.

When he meets up with the school group, he finds Enokida standing at the edge of a very noisy pack of children, while Jean is in the center.

"Godai!" Enokida greets him warmly, rushing up to meet him, leaving Jean to the mercies of the children. She reaches out to touch his forearm, a gentle, small show of affection. "Thank you so much. You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

"Not a problem. I like kids, and I like spending time with old friends." Godai nods towards Jean. "Do you think we should save him?"

"Oh, no, Jean's doing a wonderful job keeping them distracted but in one place right now." Enokida's smile as she studies Jean is one of pure affection, and Godai smiles to see it.

" _Have. The. Great! Day!_ " One of the children in the circle around Jean shouts the words in English, grinning as he does.

"No." Sayuru, noticeably bigger and older every time Godai comes home, shakes his head smugly. "Not _the_ , the word is _a_."

"To be grammatically correct, yes, but the meaning would be understood either way." Jean rests a hand on Sayuru's shoulder, supporting his adopted son while giving the boy who is at least attempting to practice a foreign language some support, as well.

Many of the children in the group around Jean seem eager to try out English phrases, some of which they probably shouldn't be using at their ages. Not that children don't have ample enough reason to curse, and Godai supposes as long as they realize how and when to properly use the words it's all right. It's probably better, really, that they ask Jean first, before using them with people who would be more easily offended. Jean just turns an interesting shade of red, while Sayuru seems to grin broader every time one of his classmates asks Jean a question.

It isn't until they're on the bus and the teacher has deposited Jean next to Godai to give the man a few minute's peace that they're able to exchange more than greetings. Jean smiles. "It's good to have you back in town."

"It's good to be back." Godai returns Jean's smile. "How's your research going?"

"You know that Sakurako and I published another paper on the Grongi language?" Jean perks up immediately, the fierce light that all researchers exude when invited to talk about the work they have poured life and soul into flaring bright in his eyes.

"I didn't, but I'm glad to hear it." He is, too. He is glad that both Sakurako and Jean have been doing well with their work, are making names for themselves in the archeology world.

Jean studies his watch, clearly debating how much he can fit into the hour ride. "Well, we've got a little bit of time, so I can at least try to give you a brief synopsis..."

XXX

The day flies by, and Godai enjoys almost every minute of it.

The children are delightful, on the cusp of maturity, eager and _alive_ , and Godai finds it easy to speak with and play with them.

Jean is his usual calm, collected, compassionate self, eager to talk about his research, eager to help with the kids, eager to speak _with_ the kids instead of _at_ them, and Godai is glad to see him in what is obviously a comfortable environment.

Enokida is her usual self, not quite as comfortable as Jean is with the children but clearly happy to be there for Sayuru.

Sayuru is proud to introduce Godai as a member of the same task-force his mom was on, the one that helped hold off the Grongi.

(There are a few bad minutes, when Sayuru's friends are asking for stories about the War, but Enokida distracts them with tales of Gouram, and Sayuru whispers an apology, and Jean puts a cold drink in Godai's too-warm hand, and Godai loves his friends even more dearly after that.)

The day seems to end too quickly, but Enokida doesn't let him leave without a promise that they will have dinner together sometime in the next week, and Godai is humming contentedly to himself when he heads back to their apartment.

And nearly runs into Sakurako, running up the stairs, a phone to her ear.

"Have to go, talk to you later!" She hangs up hastily, smiling as she shoves her phone back into her purse. "Hi, Yuusuke. It's good to see you."

"Good to see you, too." Yuusuke raises one eyebrow, suspicion beginning to enter his thoughts for the first time since he got home. "Though I should really be the one surprised, since this is my home."

"You crawl into my office wearing masks. I'm walking up to the front door, to ring the doorbell. This in no way counts as a surprise."

"The fact that mine is _more_ surprising doesn't mean that yours _isn't_ surprising." Godai holds the door open for both of them. "I was going to come by in the next day or so, by the way, to give you the new artifacts I picked up for you."

"That would be lovely. I'm teaching undergrad classes again for the next two semesters, so the more hands-on props I have, hopefully the more I can keep the students' attention." Sakurako settles down on the couch with a sigh, stretching her toes out.

"You'll do fine. You're a hero and a rising star in your field." Godai puts water on to heat for tea before settling down on the other side of the couch from Sakurako.

"Depends on who you ask, especially since I'm still getting some of my work declassified." Sakurako's smile is tired but genuine as she studies him. "What about you? Still finding new and interesting places on your adventures?"

"Everywhere is new and interesting if you've never been there. Or if you're returning after an absence."

Godai spends the next half hour telling stories, like he did for Minori. Sakurako is a very different audience, responding with a professional anthropologist's interest, and he caters the stories to the audience, telling her small things he noticed, small differences in culture that sometimes do and sometimes don't blossom out into bigger differences.

Once he's certain she's properly off guard, Godai slips his question into the conversation. "Who were you talking to on the phone when we nearly walked into each other?"

"Ichi—I mean, my number one fan Tsubaki?" Sakurako studies him hopefully.

Godai just gives his head a little shake.

"All right." Sakurako sighs, sinking down deeper in the couch cushion. "I was talking with Ichijou. He heard you were heading home, and he's still going to be a few hours, so he wanted to know if someone was available to come keep you company, assuming you wouldn't mind. And since you haven't kicked me out, I assume you don't mind."

"I don't." Godai speaks slowly. "I would tell you, if I wanted some time alone."

"Usually when you come home, now, it's because you need to see us." Sakurako has folded her hands in her lap, is studying them intently.

"Has Ichijou..." Running a hand back through his hair, Godai shakes his head. "Did he arrange for everyone to keep me company?"

"Well, he didn't plan on Minori." Lifting her head, meeting his eyes, Sakurako shoves some of her hair back behind her ear. "But he and Minori had talked about it and figured you'd gravitate to her and the kids when you were ready, so they decided to just let that happen in its own time."

Godai just shakes his head again, not certain what the emotion is that bubbles up in his chest. Gratitude? Amusement? Irritation? Some strange combination of all three, probably.

Sakurako's hand finds his, squeezes tight. "He worries about you. He's probably the most world-affairs-aware person in the whole nation now, because he tries to figure out what you might be wandering into. And he knows that when you come back, now, it's often because _here_ is less painful and fraught than _there_ , for a little bit."

"That's not..." Except it is true, in some ways. He is here because three weeks was the length of time he could stand amidst the ruin of a natural disaster without risking a catastrophic loss of control. "I love being here. I love seeing all of you, and being with him."

"You do." Sakurako's hand squeezes gently. "And we all know that. Just like we know you'll get restless again, in a month or two or three. And then you'll be gone, for a month or two or three. And you'll either come back because you missed us, which you _have_ done, or more likely you'll come back because... well..."

Because he is doing all that he can, and it's not enough. Or because he has done all that he can and it has been enough, though those times are rare and precious. Or because there is nothing else he _can_ do, because Kuuga cannot become involved in wars between men.

His left hand moves, presses down on the skin over the amadam.

Sakurako slides closer, her arm rising and coming to rest across his shoulders. "We don't mind. Being the place you come to recover. We're glad, that we can be somewhere... somewhere _safe_."

"You're _you_." Godai leans into Sakurako's touch. "You're just... yourselves. All of you. Wonderful, fantastic people, and I don't want it to seem like I just come back because I _need_ something from you or that you have to drop everything for me."

"We don't think that way, and we haven't been dropping everything for you. We've been finding time in our schedule to meet with a friend we all love." Sakurako rocks them both back and forth. "So no moping or giving Ichijou a hard time about this, all right?"

Godai smiles at his friend. "Have you ever seen me mope?"

"Well, there was that one time when the thesis defense team said that you weren't allowed to include live monkeys in your presentation..."

Godai laughs, and Sakurako grins as she scoots away from him again.

They continue their companionable conversation, and when Sakurako leaves two hours later they are both smiling, though Godai's fades into a more thoughtful expression as he closes the door and tries to decide what to do while he waits for Ichijou to return.

XXX

Ichijou uses his key to open the apartment door just after midnight.

He should be glad, he supposes, that Godai remembered to lock the door. He tries to ease it open slowly, though, not certain whether Godai will be asleep or not. If Godai is asleep, should he wake the man? He's eager to share his news, but it's not like it can't wait.

He did it, though. After three days of frantic work, he's actually managed to make it possible. Assuming Godai will want to go along with him, but—

Ichijou's train of thought derails as he walks through the door and into a candlelit wonderland.

He's fairly certain they didn't own this many candles when he left for work today. He's also fairly certain they're breaking some kind of fire code, having this many lit at once.

He's not really going to complain, though, because the effect is disconcertingly beautiful. The candles have been placed both to illuminate and to cast shadow, and they turn the small apartment into an alien landscape that he moves through with slow caution. Symbols are formed by the candles, he realizes, though they show most clearly when viewed from the corner of the eye. There is the Kuuga symbol, burning bright against the window; there, one of the many symbols used for the police.

And there, sitting at the dining room table that has been set with a meal for two, with tiny candles forming two mirrored hearts in front of him, is Godai Yuusuke, grinning proudly. "Welcome home, Ichijou."

"Godai Yuusuke." Ichijou continues his slow maneuvering through the candle-lit apartment, until he can sink down in the chair opposite Godai. "What..."

"A gift, from me to you." Godai gestures toward the plate. "Also a good dinner, which I suspect you sorely need. And a nice atmosphere for us to have some discussions."

"Discussions, plural?" Pushing the food around on his plate, Ichijou frowns across the table.

"Sakurako told me you've been throwing people into my path." Godai's eyebrows rise, questioning.

"Guilty as charged." Ichijou speaks slowly, before scooping a spoonful of curry into his mouth, chewing and swallowing carefully. "That bothers you?"

"No." Godai shrugs, a wry smile touching his mouth. "And yes, but it's mainly... does it bother you, when I come home? Is it... extra stress?"

"Never, Godai." The words are quiet but intense, and Ichijou fixes the man across the table with a fierce stare. "I am always, always happy to have you home. And if there's anything that I can do to help you, when you're home... to make things just a little bit better... I'm glad to do it."

Godai's expression is uncertain, still, his fingers toying with the spoon in his hands, making it disappear and reappear. "You already have so much that you do..."

"And part of what I do is support you. Just like you support me." Ichijou pulls in a long, deep breath. This is the time, then. This is when they talk about everything that they've done, the new patterns that they've fallen into after the hurt of the war became bearable. "Because both of us are out there trying to support others. Did Kazari show you his scrapbook?"

A hesitation, and then a slow incline of Godai's head. "I'm impressed. I didn't know that many pictures had been taken of me since... everything ended."

"You're a bit of a cult phenomenon, actually. There are whole websites dedicated to tracking you." There are people who believe Kuuga to be some kind of god, appearing with mystic precision where he is needed. (Ichijou understands those, but he dislikes them, because of the burden it puts on Godai's shoulders and the sense of... _unworthiness_ he feels it gives to those Kuuga doesn't help simply because Godai wasn't traveling in the area.) There are people who believe Kuuga is a monster, a harbinger of doom, and Ichijou has learned to scroll past and ignore those posts for his own peace of mind. (Ichijou does fight them, sometimes, and he knows that Sayuru and his friends will occasionally take them on and usually win, but the heartache usually isn't worth the victory.) There are people who recognize that Godai is a mortal hero—or at least has a mortal heart. (Ichijou watches them speculate and dig into Kuuga's identity with nervous respect, hoping they won't succeed but fascinated to see their efforts.) "And it's usually easy to deduce where you're going to be from where you've been. We get a letter from you; a natural disaster happens within reach; you're there, doing what you can to help survivors. Using Kuuga to save lives."

"It's something that I can do." Godai's left hand presses to the amadam, an unconscious habit, Ichijou thinks. "Usually it's safe, at least for a little bit. And it's not picking sides, throwing myself into politics that I'm not a part of as some kind of intelligent nuclear weapon."

"Yuusuke..." Ichijou can hear the quiet agony in his own voice, and he closes his mouth, waits a beat until he can trust his voice. "You're not a weapon."

"I am." Godai shrugs as he smiles, but it's the smile that says he is hurting. "Or I _could_ be. You know that, too. It's part of why you don't want people to know my identity. But I won't be. I won't _let_ myself be. Not for a country or a political faction, because even if I could be sure I was in the right, was fighting for the right side..."

Godai's voice trails off, his eyes going dark and distant, and Ichijou can feel a cold wind blowing against his face, though the night is warm and candles burn just in front of him.

"You're not a soldier, Godai Yuusuke." Ichijou sets his spoon down, leaning forward slightly. "You never have been. That's why we're still _here_. Why Kuuga chose _you_ , and why we both survived that day."

"I know." Godai stares down at his food, frowning, though it is the frown of concentration and thought. "I just... I have so much _power_. Power I can never get away from, that I can feel running through me, and I feel like I should _do_ something with it. But I never intended to be a... a _hero_. Not like this. I just want to wander, and meet people, and learn about them, and do the best I can for those I meet."

"Which is a hero. More of a hero than most people ever aspire to be." Reaching across the table, the flames of the candles licking close to his arm, Ichijou waits for Godai to take his hand.

Godai does, his grip firm, his skin just slightly too warm. He _smiles_ as he does, too, that bright, open, pleased expression he always wears when Ichijou initiates physical contact or anything romantic.

"You're a good man, Godai Yuusuke." Ichijou tightens his fingers around Godai's. "You're one of the best men I've ever known. And I'm proud of what you've been doing, out there. And I'm happy to help you, when you're here."

"Sometimes..." Godai's voice is hesitant, uncertain. "Sometimes it doesn't feel like I'm doing enough. Sometimes it feels like I should be out there, all the time, trying to fix things. To protect people. And other times... other times it feels like if I see one more hurt person, one more grieving person, one more dead body, I'll burst into flames and take the whole world with me."

"Which would help no one." Ichijou tightens his grip, squeezing Godai's hand as hard as he can, and Godai returns the pressure. "Even soldiers have time between tours of duty. Even detectives have vacation time."

A snort of honest, surprised laughter escapes from Godai. " _You_ do not ever get to lecture anyone on vacations. Ever."

"No?" Ichijou pulls his hand back to his side of the table, picking up his spoon and taking another bite of Godai's curry. "Not even if I'm starting a seven-day vacation period tomorrow?"

Godai stare blankly at him for long seconds. Then he blinks. "You—you—"

"That's why I've been out so late these last two evenings. I've been trying to wrap up what I need to, and I've succeeded. Mostly. At least enough that I think I can go wherever you want, for a few days." Ichijou is still hesitant about being absent from his job for any length of time, but for Godai, for a chance to spend some time with the man who changed his life and continues to change it, every time they're together... well, he's willing to try. "That's what I wanted to tell you tonight. I didn't want to say anything until I was certain it would go through, though."

"You'll have a whole week off?" Godai still looks as though Ichijou hit him between the eyes with a steel pipe.

"A whole week off." Ichijou takes another bite of dinner, feeling his face flush. "I was thinking, if you wanted, that we could stop by and see my mother for a day...?"

"Your mother?" A grin begins to spread across Godai's face. "She _knows_? She's all right with us?"

"She knows. She actually asked me flat-out if I was living with you." A mixture of embarrassment and pleasure curls again through Ichijou's chest as he remembers the conversation, the hesitant questions from his mother. "She says she just wants me to be happy, now, and if that means sharing an apartment in Tokyo with another man who helped save the world, so be it."

"A week. We'll have a whole week together, to do whatever we want." Godai's grin is wide and bright. "I would say you should have told me so that I could plan something for us, but I'm not really very good at planning. This is going to be wonderful."

"I thought you might enjoy the idea." Ichijou is smiling, too, watching Godai's giddy happiness.

Godai's grin dims slightly, and he settles back in his seat. "This isn't _just_ for me though, right? You want to take some time off, too?"

Ichijou considers the question as he chews another spoonful of curry. "If I had never met you? If I was still the man I was six years ago? I would think taking a vacation was ridiculous, a waste of time and resources. I would be miserable the whole time I was on vacation, thinking I should be at work."

Godai's smile has faded away entirely, his eyes falling to his untouched plate of food.

"But I'm not that man anymore." Ichijou waits for Godai to lift his head again. "I like spending time with you. I like the idea of seeing places you want to take me. We've both survived a war, and though my job is important, and something I love... I'm happy to have a bit more than just that in my life."

"You had more than just that in your life." Godai's smile makes a tentative return. "You had Tsubaki and Enokida and everyone else down at the station. You weren't just a good task force commander because of your determination and tactics. You're good with people. You care about them, and try to do the best you can by them, and the people under your command respond to that."

"I do the best that I can." Ichijou's face is flushed again, and he allows his eyes to drop back to his plate. "We both do, and I think, overall, we're doing just fine."

"It doesn't bother you and the others?" Godai finally puts his spoon down in the curry, scooping up a mound of rice and sauce. "My being gone, and then coming back when I need... something different? Though I _would_ come back, even if I never needed to use Kuuga again. I would always come back, for all of you."

"We know that, Godai Yuusuke." Ichijou smiles as he raises his head to catch Godai's eye again. "We know _you_ , and we're just fine with you."

"Good. And the same applies to you and your work. I really appreciate you taking the time off, and I know how... _big_ this is for you." Godai's hand gesture indicates a very large deal indeed, and Ichijou arches an eyebrow. "I'll make sure it's a vacation you'll never forget."

"It's time with you." The words are incredibly sappy, something that Tsubaki would say, but they rise to the tip of his tongue anyway, and Ichijou lets them have their way. "There's no way I would ever forget it."

A few minutes pass in companionable silence, both of them focusing on their meals as the candles burn down steadily.

"So, Ichijou..." Godai's expression is serene, but there's a mischievous glint to his eye that makes Ichijou suspicious. "Does this mean that I can start talking to you about retirement some day?"

Ichijou raises his wine glass filled with soda and takes a sip before answering. "Depends on how good a vacation you make it."

It was clearly not the answer that Godai was expecting, and Godai laughs, smiling again as they finish their meal.

It takes almost four minutes for them to blow out all the candles, and when they're done Ichijou finds himself almost blind, his eyes not night-adapted after staring into so many flames.

Godai's hand finds his, though, and he follows the gentle pressure, trusting Godai to lead him through the darkness.

That's what they both do for each other, after all, and Ichijou is smiling as they tumble into bed, Godai's skin hot and smooth beneath his hands, all of his scars invisible.

That's what all of them do, taking the hands of friends and lovers and leading them through the darkness, and so far they haven't found a night so impenetrable that together they can't reach the other side.


End file.
